Vanishing Acts

Before long, Joey introduced himself to the beautiful boy he’d seen dancing and found his name to be Jake, he was 22 and worked as a bookstore manager. It took about five seconds after that for Joey to push his lips against Jake’s and they both weaved their hands together as they walked from the club.

In all honesty, Bianca was happy that Joey knew how to have a good time but was considerably saddened that he’d left her alone already, surrounded by strangers and raging partygoers. In the half an hour she spent in the bathroom, she concluded that Johnny’s drink had completely ruined the front of her dress and since spent the evening leaning against the wall, hatred brimming up to her eyes and threatening to spew out over the floor. The air was thick with her fury. She’d managed to get another two drinks in that time – the edges of walls were beginning to go fuzzy, colour exploding in front of her, bass pumping into her soul. The lights were perhaps a little too bright for her liking and the music screamed at her. She had at least expected Joey to make sure she was okay before clearing off to get laid.

Suddenly, the air became devoid of oxygen. Faint. There wasn’t enough air. Lights began to make her dizzy…she felt suffocated. She needed to escape, needed to leave, needed fresh air. But her legs had frozen her to the floor. She needed to breathe.

Shaking, she began to panic. This wasn’t right, she was sure of it. What was happening? A million questions whizzed around her brain like a swarm of annoying flies. Her fingers gripped the glass, nails turning white against her skin. Her vision blurred, swimming instead with the bright silhouettes of oblivious people; sounds faded together, the only consistent noise being the thump, thump, thump of her heart beating rapidly in fear. A layer of sweat dripped down her forehead to her cheek, face contorting in invisible, subconscious pain.

She knew if she moved, she’d be sick. But she’d faint here if she didn’t breathe properly. The club was just too hot, she just needed to cool down. The simple movement of putting her right foot in front of her left made her insides lurch in agony and panic. Her stomach somersaulted, nausea bursting through into her bloodstream. She wanted to be sick. She wanted to go home. Just sleep the alcohol from her system.

Clenching her fists together, she began to walk, her throat constricting with every harsh breath. It seemed almost a chore to move, to breathe, to stay conscious. An internal struggle not to succumb to the fiery depths of catalepsy. She’d make it if she went home now. But she was so far from her houses and her vision had faltered again.

She pushed open the large brass doors to the club, stepping out into the chilly nearly-January air. The street was unusually quiet for a New Year’s Eve. She wobbled as she walked to lean against the brick. The need to puke was more apparent than ever but the mess would not come. The sign of the club, Midnight Ink, it was called, flashed dangerously; the edges blurred fantastically, the letters merging to one.

A second later, she heard the pause of music and the cheerful countdown from the people inside. It became a muffled buzz as she concentrated on consciousness, not paying enough attention to watch as a shadow lurked to her right. As the crowd screamed “Happy New Year!” from inside, a hand clenched around her wrist, sliming her arm in sin.

*

It took Johnny a total of two minutes to realise he was bored of January already, when the hype died down and everyone went back to their own drunken business. It was a miracle that he’d managed to remain somewhat alert tonight; he’d drunk almost twice the amount that Gates had, and he was fucked. It was really only a matter of time before he would keel over and retch his guts into a trashcan outside. And Johnny would have to walk him home and make sure he didn’t attempt to take a nap on his neighbour’s roof like before. But something caught his eye as she sipped yet another beer – the girl he’d spilled his drink on was stumbling through the doors, tired-looking and tripping as she walked.

And it was odd. They hadn’t even talked for long but he could tell this wasn’t normal behaviour for her. He barely knew her – scrap that, he didn’t know her at all…but something was very wrong.

Johnny turned back to look at Matt and Val together in the corner. He admired their relationship, really. He (and all the guys for that matter) had indulged in clumsy and messy one night stands while they toured. That itself was common knowledge. The heat of the moment just made them do it. The rest of the guys had steady relationships but him.

Bored, Johnny finished his beer and asked for another. It was unlike him to pass up a good party, especially one on New Year’s Eve, where he had the potential to bed some girl and wake up with a major, but worth it, hangover. December never was a good month for him. His eyes began to wander as he scanned the club aimlessly, before they rested on a girl not too far away who winked and beckoned him closer. Grinning, he followed her to the dancefloor; within minutes, they were dancing suggestively to the beat of an unknown song, the loud crashes of cymbals drowning out the terrified scream that wavered across the street, falling upon deaf ears.